I suppose the “age sky” is not a boundary to learning from each other. Of course, I agree, age is wholesomely packaged alongside bountiful bouncing experiences and maturity, but that does not mean we know it all. I am still learning in my 50’s mind you. Recently after releasing my Part 1 “Menopause My Blood Story”, I learned that women are together-forever for learning on menopause and coming with it symptoms. Additionally, I have concluded that unlike our grandmas and mums who silently battled menopause, we are liberal enough on discussing it. Nonetheless, matured women and not the trending “sweet lollipops” are uncomfortable with openly speaking about menopause on social media.
I pretty much do understand ladies. I agree we shouldn’t wash dirty linings in public, neither should we flush sanitary pads down the toilet nor thereafter happily grin at the plumber because of money power, whereas tampons have never been my friend. Even so, certain I am you can stop your “dollies” from throwing tampons as they wish anywhere in the room or bathroom albeit you can afford a kakak/ maid or you don’t mind being the maid. Who knows? Mothers these days are willing to sacrifice everything under the sun for highly educating daughters, simultaneously prepare them on marrying only Prince Charming in BMW, Porsche, Luxury Yacht or Private Jet. Hallelujah! Let the sun shine on all daughters!
That said, to all the women who messaged to share their menopause stories and to those who appreciated my honest and sincere Part 1, thank you from the bottom of my heart. To those who accidently or purposely pressed the menopause panic button, please stop. Read this Part 2, later press your button or whoever’s button.
Initially I was under the impression that any doctor is a good doctor for treating menopause. Actually, you know what? I wasn’t even 100 percentage sure what I was experiencing is due to I can’t make babies anymore. Logically I should have seen a gynecologist, instead I opted for company panel clinic doctors where the first sweetie-pie doctor seem more interested in flipping her hair while looking at me as if I was speaking in alien language. No action reaction as I continued telling her mainly on my battle with hot flushes and sleep deprivation. Perhaps she was unsure which key is the key for unlocking my menopause. Akin a medical robot, she checked my pressure and big chest, of course I should be given tablets right? What a waste to swallowing company’s medical insurance and my time of swallowing those tablets. The next male doctor fared quite okay. He lengthily spoke on the reasons to early menopause. Never mind. Point noted. But what caught me by surprise was when he diverted to Malaysian politics and racial equality. “Ding-dong-bell, pussy in the well”. I again returned home with huge tablets I can’t recall if I took. The third doctor who most probably have gone through housemanship hardship was at least wise enough in advising me to see a gynecologist. Made sense.
Thus, at the “no frill” private hospital I underwent a complete medical check-up prior to being certified as “fiddle-yankee-doodle-yanky” fit by the down to earth gynecologist. What a relief. Medical menopause heaven came calling. Doctor then confirmed it is the raging hormones, subsequently he clearly explained - “You are not the worst case, by far menopause is coupled with psychological factors. I doubt I should suggest hormone tablets which does come with side effects. The best natural remedy is a balanced diet and exercising for physical and mental well-being. In any case, I will prescribe sleeping tablets, take only if you really need”. Worked miraculously. Despite I didn’t thunderously dash to Usain Bolt’s 100 meters finishing line, I felt a whole better in strengthening my coping mechanisms as per doctor’s advice.
Makes a difference. Doctors do. Either identify him or her based on recommendation, or after the first consultation and possibly discount out the “just blooming” doctors to ensure you are at the right hands instead of at “Edward or Edwatie Scissorhands”, regardless being in love with a male or female doctor. I on the other hand will stick to the same doctor even if I have to “show it and it” to him when the need arises. Moreover, I can vouch that older doctors carry big suitcases of experiences compared to the up and coming ones who seemingly are more handsome or “pretty-pretty” barbies. Then again, going by the current beauty book trend of jabbing here and there, cutting there and here, looks potentially is deceiving. Catch it if you can!
I doubt I hated my job. I just couldn’t wake up, I dragged the daily crawl, the clocking in on time, the clocking later in time and the culture of working during weekends from home, at work and at the standing for 8 hours education "not-fair" where none cared about your lunch break. Also, I was reporting to a new boss whose tongue wagged worse than the dog’s. An unpolished bitchy character who even called me stupid once, picked on me for the smallest mistakes and “bitchely” played the favoritism card. All of these further triggered my symptoms until I eventually quit.
I don’t know what it is like with your job, nevertheless, I “may” or may not be wrong in saying that most top guns can impressively impress us by laying-out work life balance policies at town hall meetings. In actual fact, those sweet talks are weakly implemented in companies which squeeze every drop of your blood in the name of achieving “triple bottom line”. Profit obviously is the hidden sly bottom, whereas the other two “bottom” lines are again slyly hidden from auditors despite beautifully stated as organization’s core values and as colorful human resource spectrums. Come to think of it, have anyone ever voiced out concern, especially women who have pierced through the glass ceiling in rank and position, on menopause support mechanisms? Blah-blah black sheep, have you any tissue?
The only person who stood by me when I cried-sobbed, when I felt as though my head is gonna explored and when I sweat-dripped day and night was my other half-half. I literally drove him up all the walls. I awoke him from snoring because of palpitation and he had to immediately fly back home from his business trip the moment I called to say I am helpless. Frankly speaking, his patience paid-off on me. All the respect in this world for this imperfect soul-mate of mine.
That one love is akin a magical wand as a comfort zone. Be it your spouse, your mum or dad, your children, your bestie, your illegal husband or your keep. Naturally, we expect it from spouse. Still, I can’t be the person who must put your thoughts across about menopause to him, unless you pay me. For you to know and for others to find out. Potentially, my menopause story can ignite the fire. In any case, there is no harm in “loving thy neighbours” who certainly are your nearest crisis center for menopause “catch 22” symptoms. How about then we make an attempt by preventing our pampered dogs and cats from “pooping” at neighbors, neither steal nor poison their plants or be nice to them by lovingly sharing food. I bet food does wonders for Malaysians because food is our love and love is our food.
Are you kidding me? Are you seriously asking me? Seriously, I really don’t know what to say, I won't too share my bedtime stories with public despite knowing it can boost-up my popularity.
What clue? Which one? Tell me. I’m listening. Are you telling me sex is possible when women are struggling with tiredness, or while tossing and turning all night long or “wet dripping" because of hot flushes? Please! Common sense is the sense to hugging, holding and cuddling each other. But if sex is insisted, use your symptoms as an alibi to lash him, her or it.
There are no printed and non-printed rules to diet and well-being. I still eat and drink what I like till this day. Essentially everything is in moderation. I can’t give up sambal belacan, coffee and a glass of wine during weekends. I do drain every drop of water into my system, the standard healthy practice across the board is to include more vegetables and fruits which has been repeated donkey times and I exercise almost every day. I keep it simple and interesting with diet and well-being since my menopause “relationship” by itself is rather complicated.
Be practical. Don’t be akin “Malaysian flash floods” healthy freak. It can’t be vegetables and fruits daily. It can be a scoop of ice-cream instead of gawking the whole tub, it can be a piece of fondant cake instead of squatting in front of the fridge to lick the whole, lock and barrel, and then tell everyone you hardly eat, yet you are over-weight. Actually, you can eat whatever including Vietnamese roasted dog provided you exercise. Treadmill, walking, yoga or neighborhood free qiqong/taichi is where you either build friendship or break marriages. Whatever said, everything begins with loving thyself. Be selfish. It can’t be family all the time. Travel with or without them, chill at cafés over a cup of freshly brewed coffee with or without friends, at the same time lookout whether spouse is dating another man or woman.
Conclusively, menopause is a life long journey not a destination. I can’t speak on behalf of others, for me, it does “touch and go” or “hit and run” constantly or every now and then. I still burst in hot flushes, I still struggle to sleep and body aches and head ache are unavoidable. More impotently, oopsie, more importantly, please practice good eating habits, exercise and surround yourself with practical positive people.
Take care everyone. I love you too.